


the only thing that looks good on me (is you)

by ginevieve



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, OT4, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Polyship Roadtrip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginevieve/pseuds/ginevieve
Summary: Noct’s instant grin was predatory.“Yes, Princess?” Gladio hummed, amused.“Prom better let me steal that hoodie next. Just sayin’.”They already pretty much share everything - their personal space, their meals, their bodies, their hearts. (Just not toothbrushes.) So what's a few pieces of clothing?Or, five times the boys lost their clothes, and one time they got them all back.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 56
Kudos: 220





	1. Sweater Weather

Chapter 1: Sweater Weather

_the goosebumps start to raise_

_the minute that my left hand meets your waist_

_and then I watch your face_

_put my finger on your tongue_

_'cause you love the taste, yeah_

_it's too cold for you here_

_and now, so let me hold_

_both your hands in the holes of my sweater_

*

It was a rare occasion that Gladio even _got_ cold, which was probably why it took the better part of two months for him to realize his Crownsguard hoodie had gone missing. And he likely wouldn’t have noticed then, if Noct hadn’t drug his ass out for a late-evening fishing session. With autumn nudging into winter, the breeze off Cape Caem was just this side of chilly enough to make Gladio realize his normal black tank just wasn’t gonna cut it. He narrowed a suspicious sideways glance at Noct seated beside him in only a t-shirt and jeans, the Prince seemingly unaffected.

“Aren’t you cold?” he groused, giving his charge a half-hearted shove. “You’re like, what, 45 kilos soaking wet?”

Noct didn’t even bother to look up from his reel. “Nope,” he replied, smugly popping the ‘p.’

“Bullshit."

But the Prince continued to smirk, and Gladio could tell he truly wasn’t bothered – the only sign he even noticed the wind being an intermittent hand brushing up to flatten back his hair. Meanwhile, every single hair on Gladio’s arms was raised with gooseflesh. He managed to sit still for another five minutes before a particular nasty gust damn near made him shiver.

Yeah, not happening.

Gladio threw himself to his feet. “Whatever, Princess. I’m running to camp to grab my hoodie.” At Noct’s snort of laughter, he added, “Try not to fall in and drown while I’m gone.”

“I’ll take my chances with the water over falling into you and slicing myself open on one of your nipples,” was Noctis’s parting shot, and if Gladio wasn’t already halfway up the rocky shoreline, the Prince would’ve been receiving one hell of a noogie, make no mistake.

As he pulled himself up and over the low edge of the haven, he caught Ignis raising an eyebrow at him from his position at the camp stove. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” the tactician mused. “Noct had the look like he intended to be there all night when you left.” Not that Ignis would have ever let him; that went obviously without saying.

“Nah,” Gladio waved a dismissive hand at his friend, “the fish master is still in his _zone_. Just getting a little frosty down by the water.” He crossed their camp in a few long strides, resisting the urge to stop at the cozy fire and instead angling himself for the tent.

“Yes, well, that _can_ happen when you refuse to wear proper shirts,” Ignis teased.

The Shield rolled his amber eyes skyward. “Astrals, not you too.” His beleaguered grumble was muffled, however, as he threw himself inside the tent, ruffling first through his personal bag, and then through the communal dirty laundry duffel they all shared. Finding what he sought in neither, Gladio frowned. _What the hell_. He remembered seeing his Crownsguard hoodie tucked under a few books in the bottom of his bag a few weeks back. But that had been in Lestallum, and it was hot as balls there, so he sure as hell wouldn’t have taken it out there, and they’d only just driven down to the Cape today. The likelihood of it being moved in that time was slim to none.

Just in case, he sorted through the dirty laundry again, but Ignis had made sure he’d washed the majority of their clothing before they’d left town, so there wasn’t much to look through.

His hoodie was definitely MIA.

Frowning down at the floor of the tent, he called out, “Hey Iggy.”

“Yes, Gladio?” came the immediate reply.

His gaze roved over the collection of sleeping bags and blankets piled around, wondering if maybe it had accidentally gotten folded and misplaced. “We didn’t leave any clothes or anything behind in Lestallum, did we?”

He could hear the frown in Ignis’s voice as the other man answered, “Not to my knowledge, no. Why, what are you missing?”

“My Crownsguard hoodie.” Gladio huffed a sigh. It definitely wasn’t there. “I can’t find it.”

He tried not to glower as he stepped back out of the tent. It was only a stupid hoodie, after all, but it was his favorite – soft and familiar and broken in in all the right places. He wondered if maybe Iris had nicked it at some point without him noticing. He started to voice this thought aloud to Ignis when he noticed his friend markedly _smirking_ at him.

Narrowing his eyes, Gladio ground out, “What. What’s that look.”

Ignis’s sea glass eyes danced away from the Shield, and Gladio followed his gaze to the fireside, to an occupied camp chair that he had summarily ignored until that moment. Prompto was curled up there, his legs folded up to his chest and his chin tucked onto his knee as he stared down at his phone, draped in what appeared to a large, dark grey blanket. Except blankets didn’t have hoods.

Gladio stalked up to the fire slowly. “Blondie.”

“Hey, big guy!” Prompto greeted him brightly, eyes still locked on his phone screen. The tinny sounds of fighting coming from the device suggested he was taking the opportunity of his friends’ various distractions to do some solo dungeon crawling in King’s Knight.

Having rounded Prompto’s chair, the Shield could now clearly see the faded white Crownsguard logo on the sagging shoulder of what he knew to be, in fact, his hoodie. _That little shit._

“Prompto.” Gladio let just a touch of menace curl through the low growl of his voice, knowing what sort of effect that generally had on his young blond friend. “Do you happen to know where my Crownsguard hoodie is? Y’know – the _only_ hoodie I have. My _favorite_ hoodie.”

The gunman didn’t even bother to look up. “Nope,” he replied smartly, popping the ‘p’ of the word just as Noct had done. He sounded entirely too pleased with himself.

What. The actual. Hell.

Gladio heard what he thought might be a muffled laugh behind him turn swiftly into cough, but he didn’t dare look at Ignis right now. Instead he leaned down over his youngest friend, letting his hands find the arms of the camp chair as he bracketed Prompto in. The blond, for his part, appeared unperturbed.

“No?” Gladio repeated, allowing his voice to drop another octave, to what Noct liked to refer to as the Shield’s ‘ _gonna tear you apart with my dick_ ’ voice. “What’s that you’re wearing then?”

Too-bright cerulean eyes flickered up to meet smoldering amber, unabashed and unblinking. “This?” He plucked at the soft grey fabric hanging loosely around his neck. “This is _my_ Crownsguard hoodie,” Prompto said evenly. And then he fucking _grinned_. That beautiful, full-watt, bright-as-the-godsdamned-sun smile that only Prompto could produce, glowing with warmth and affection and.

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

If he wasn’t the most gorgeous, fucking adorable thing Gladio had ever seen, he’d be lying through his teeth. He continued to stare back, for what felt like ages, drinking in every detail of the younger man now attired in _Gladio’s_ hoodie, trying to reconcile exactly what that idea was doing to his insides at the moment. Something hot and racing and just a tiny bit possessive had unfurled to life in his chest, and he sorta kinda fucking loved it.

He realized he’d been silent a bit too long, as the momentary burst of flirtatious confidence began to fade off Prompto’s features, and the edge of his usual insecurity began to sneak back into that guileless blue gaze. “I mean…” he hedged, suddenly unable to meet Gladio’s eye. “It’s, um… if you don’t m-mind…” The corners of the boy’s smile dropped the tiniest bit, and shit, Gladio couldn’t let that happen.

Without thinking, he let his hand curl up around the blond’s chin, tilting his head up so he could claim Prompto’s mouth with his own. Normally he liked to take his time with his youngest lover, melting him down with slow, sensual kisses until Prom was a keening, pliable puddle of desire at the Shield’s fingertips. But the new, covetous heat itching its way through his veins had him grabby and needy, and he was all teeth and tongue as he crowded into Prompto’s space, his free hand quickly finding its preferred spot tangled in the younger man’s silk-soft blond locks.

It took Prompto a good minute for his brain to kick back into functioning so he could kiss Gladio back. When he finally did, Gladio let his hand drop from Prompto’s face and instead to the pilfered hoodie that had started all this. He let his fingers knot into the familiar material, uttered a small, low growl, and then tugged the blond bodily into his arms.

The high, broken whine that Prompto kissed back into his mouth was _delicious._

From across the fire, Ignis cleared his throat, though his normally clipped tone came out a little rough as he gave the gentle reminder, “Noct is still fishing on his own, Gladio.”

The Shield broke the kiss on a laugh, smiling his mirth against Prompto’s still-wanting mouth. “Jealous much, Iggy?”

Sighing through his nose, the advisor elected not to answer. Which only made Gladio laugh again.

“Fair enough.” He pressed one last lingering kiss against Prompto’s mouth and moved to stand despite the gunman’s groan of protest. “Astrals forbid I leave His Highness unattended.”

“Wait, don’t you want…?” Prompto pulled at the hoodie he still wore, obviously ready to tug it up and over his head to relinquish to Gladio, but the older man stopped him with a shake of his head.

“Nah, you keep it, I’ll just grab a t-shirt or something.” Gladio grinned roguishly, all smooth charm, and purred, “Looks better on you anyway, sunshine.”

He had slightly less than five seconds to prepare before Prompto had flung himself back into his arms and was kissing him again, hard. The blond’s mouth moved fiercely down his jaw and along the line of his throat, stopping at the bare junction of Gladio’s neck and shoulder to bite down into the tender spot. As Gladio hissed a breath in through his teeth, he heard Ignis mutter weakly, “Oh honestly.”

But then Prompto’s warmth was moving away and, by the time he’d settled back into his camp chair, his habitual pink flush had appeared beneath the endearing line of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Smiling coyly but not quite able to meet Gladio’s gaze, Prom murmured, “I’ll let you take it off me later.”

The faint growl that curled up from Gladio’s chest was a promise. “Hold you to that, Blondie.”

*

It was properly dark and more than a little frigid when Gladio finally made it back to Noct. Other than the two decent-sized striped barramundi now poking out of his fish bucket, the Prince didn’t appear to have moved at all in Gladio’s absence. He waited until Gladio had flopped gracelessly back down beside him, thoughtfully eying the dark blue t-shirt the bigger man wore, until his liquid midnight gaze caught on the fresh bruise darkening at the curve of his Shield’s neckline, visible even in the low light of their camping lantern.

Noct’s instant grin was predatory.

“Yes, Princess?” Gladio hummed, amused.

“Prom better let me steal that hoodie next. Just sayin’.”

Gladio’s howl of laughter and flush of affectionate warmth was more than enough to keep him toasty for the rest of the night.


	2. Looks So Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Dead silence. Then from somewhere to the left, the blond squeaked, “Y-yeah, Iggy?”
>> 
>> “May I borrow an item of your clothing for the day?” he asked, though as he’d already begun to tug the blue boxer briefs on, it was only out of politeness.
>> 
>> Another pause, and then Prompto’s most flirtatious tone answered him back. “Of course, Igs, anything you need. You know you can get in my pants anytime, baby.”
> 
> In which Ignis gets dirty and Prompto makes it worse.

Chapter 2: Looks So Perfect

_simmer down, simmer down_

_they say we’re too young now to amount to anything else_

_but look around_

_we worked too damn hard for this just to give it up now_

_if you don’t swim, you’ll drown_

_but don’t move, honey_

_you look so perfect standing there_

_in my American Apparel underwear_

_and I know now that I’m so down_

_I made a mixtape straight out of ‘94_

_I’ve got your ripped skinny jeans lying on the floor_

_and I know now that I’m so down_

*

He was going to blame Gladio for this, Ignis decided. Also possibly Noctis, but mostly definitely Gladio.

The first thing he’d said to the lumbering behemoth that morning, while Gladio had sat lacing up his running shoes, was their pressing need to head directly to the hunters’ headquarters in Meldacio. When he had received only a nominal grunt of acknowledgement from the big man, Ignis had scowled menacingly over the top of his half-finished can of Ebony. “I’m quite serious, Gladiolus.” He resorted to the use of his friend’s full name. “We’re extraordinarily low on curatives, I’ve got only the most basic of food supplies-”

“We still got Cup Noodles, right?” Gladio interrupted.

Ignis exhaled sharply through his nose. “ _Yes_ , but most concerning to _me_ is the state of our laundry, or rather lack thereof. I daresay if we don’t make it to an outpost today, we’ll all be wandering the countryside nude by tomorrow.” It had been an exaggeration, of course, but Gladio enjoyed making light of the advisor’s concerns, and Ignis had long ago learned to opt for describing the worst case scenario to make sure he was taken seriously.

The Shield merely stretched to his feet, arching his back and flexing his shoulders in a way Ignis found unfairly distracting. “Yeah, yeah, Iggy, I hear you,” he replied, his grin impish as he strode over to drop a kiss on the advisor’s forehead. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“I shall be lucky if I even have a clean pair _to_ twist,” Ignis grumbled, which had only caused Gladio to burst into laughter and hurriedly jump down over the haven’s rocky edge before Ignis could throw something at him.

And now…

Now Ignis oscillated somewhere between “ _I told you so_ ” and “ _I’m going to kill you all_ ” as he glared down his nose at the Shield, the Prince, and the gunman that were, collectively, his best friends and lovers. It wasn’t so much the swamp water completely soaking through his clothes that bothered him, but rather the thick, foul-smelling mud obscuring the lenses of his glasses and befouling his hair, caked down his entire front from where he’d landed moments prior. The Sahagin whose tail had caught him from behind, causing his unceremonious dip into the Vesperpool, lay dead a few feet away.

To their credit, none of the other three were laughing, though it appeared to be a very near thing.

Closest to him was Noctis, his blade still in hand and dripping Sahagin blood onto his boot, the Prince’s face frozen somewhere between shock and amused concern. “Holy shit, Specs,” he breathed. “You, ah… you got a little something on your-” Noct’s quip cut off abruptly at the elbow Prompto dropped into his ribs.

“Dude, no,” the blond hissed, “that’s his murder face. Just… no.”

Ignis turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of mud.

“Okay, that’s just… yeah,” Gladio cleared his throat awkwardly, then proceeded to tug his tank top up over his head and offer the mostly-clean, if a little sweaty, garment to the advisor.

Ignis’s icy stare never left the Shield as he grabbed the shirt and immediately set to work mopping the mess of mud off his face and glasses. “We’re walking back to the haven.” His voice was as hard and sharp as the steel of his daggers. “ _Now_.”

Wisely, no one chose to protest.

*

Four buckets of water (that he had demanded the other three fetch) and slightly over an hour was what it took to return Ignis to some semblance of cleanliness. His hair still smelled faintly of swamp and half a tube of toothpaste couldn’t quite take the full taste of mud out of his mouth, but it would have to do. Now came the more pressing issue, as he stood inside the tent wrapped only in a towel. He hadn’t been _completely_ overemphasizing their sartorial shortage to Gladio that morning, but as he rifled through what little remained of their assembled clothing, he realized how close to the mark he had actually been.

Gladio had one full set of fatigues left; Noctis and Prompto had three shirts and two pairs of pants between them; and Ignis had only his emergency back-up outfit, which he had sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to call upon.

More distressing was their undergarment situation.

A quick inventory confirmed that Gladio had been going commando for at least two days. He’d witnessed both Noctis and Prompto putting on clean boxers when they’d dressed that morning, but considering the pair the Prince sported was adorned in purple chocobo print, Ignis was fairly certain he’d borrowed them from the blond. And the advisor knew with troubling certainty that he’d donned his own last clean pair of boxer briefs that day. Which were now damp and slightly musty-smelling.

_Well then._ He loosed a deep sigh and continued to search while outside he could hear the others conversing in low voices.

“ _Think he’s still mad?_ ” murmured Prompto, his tone anxious.

“ _Probably. He’ll get over it though_.” Noctis’s voice, as unconcerned and dismissive as only the Prince could be.

Gladio’s low rumble joined the mix, “ _Yeah, he’ll be fine._ ” He paused before adding, almost too casually, “ _We probably should have listened when he told us not to stop for that hunt though._ ”

“ _It was **your** idea!_” Noct growled.

The leering smirk in Gladio’s voice was audible as he shot back, “ _And it was **you** whining about wanting to knock some heads in_.”

“ _And I told you **both** it was a bad idea!_” Prompto chimed in.

“ _And yet I didn’t hear you bitching when you were flying around snapping Sahagin selfies, Blondie_ ,” came the Shield’s amused reply.

The gunman’s voice raised an octave. “ _I was **not** …!_”

Outside the tent, sounds of a scuffle broke out, and Ignis could only assume Gladio had one or the other of the younger two in a headlock, judging by the high-pitched complaints, but the advisor tuned it out as he at last caught a stroke of luck. In the very bottom of Prompto’s spare backpack, he’d located a pair of underwear that still smelled faintly of laundry soap, indicating they were most likely clean. Even better, they were boxer briefs; Ignis did not care for boxer shorts, as they left him feeling too _uncontained_. Though they would be a little snug at the waist – Prompto was slightly smaller than Ignis, after all – and the color and pattern left somewhat to be desired (bright blue with neon yellow chocobo feathers wasn’t his particular style), they would most certainly suffice.

_Beggars mustn’t be choosers,_ he thought to himself, _unless they prefer the discomfort of accidentally sitting on their own delicate anatomy._

He let his voice raise high enough to cut through the tumult beyond the tent flaps. “Prompto?”

Dead silence. Then from somewhere to the left, the blond squeaked, “Y-yeah, Iggy?”

“May I borrow an item of your clothing for the day?” he asked, though as he’d already begun to tug the blue boxer briefs on, it was only out of politeness.

Another pause, and then Prompto’s most flirtatious tone answered him back. “Of course, Igs, anything you need. You know you can get in my pants anytime, baby.”

Despite himself, Ignis smiled, knowing the blond was trying valiantly to soothe his ire. Especially considering they generally only referred to one another by pet names in the bedroom. “My thanks, love,” he called back, and imagined the delicate tips of Prompto’s ears turning pink at the endearment.

A low snort of laughter from Gladio. “ _Suck up_.” And then the scuffling renewed.

When Ignis finally stepped out of the tent several minutes later, three curious gazes immediately met him. They’d all settled back into camp chairs, the only sign of disturbance the marked disarray of Prompto’s hair. He stared back evenly and made a concentrated effort not to shift as they took in his attire.

His emergency back-up outfit was… well.

The day they had left Insomnia, he’d wavered on even bringing the pieces of clothing, and it was purely the selfish need for a comfort item that had provoked him at last into dropping the items into his suitcase. The grey jeans were years old and impossibly faded, the hems frayed and one of the back pockets starting to tear, sitting just a bit too loose on his hips where he’d toned himself over the years. The three-quarter sleeve shirt was in a similar state of wear, pale blue and emblazoned on the chest with a Kingsglaive emblem that had been laundered almost to the point of invisibility. Like Gladio’s Crownsguard hoodie, it was a mark of his completion of Glaive training and an item he’d been loath to part with. Unlike Gladio’s hoodie, the shirt appeared to have gotten tighter across his chest and biceps than he originally remembered it being. A credit to his continued strength conditioning, no doubt, but now it called the hint of a blush to his face as his three paramours eyed the stretch of fabric across muscle.

Ignis cleared his throat. “Shall we break camp?”

*

It had taken nearly twice as long as standard for them to pack; Prompto had kept tripping over himself every time he wandered too near to Ignis, and Gladio had stopped more than once to flat out stare, but somehow eventually they found themselves on the road to Meldacio. The tactician had lowered the top of the Regalia in hopes of airing some of the swamp odor out of his hair, and other than Gladio insisting on sitting behind him for some reason, the drive had commenced without incident.

A few miles outside the hunter’s headquarters, Ignis felt the sudden brush of fingertips against his jaw, followed by Gladio’s chin resting on his shoulder over the driver’s seat. Lips brushed pleasantly against the shell of his ear as the big man murmured, “Hey Iggy.”

“Gladio,” Ignis answered, just loud enough to be heard over the rush of the wind.

“Still pissed at me?”

“Mmm. Perhaps.” He wasn’t, but it was exactly the sort of vague, teasing answering that Ignis knew would burrow under Gladio’s skin, and sure enough, he felt the soft ghost of a laugh against his neck followed by the light press of teeth. He chose to ignore ensuing the rush of heat through his veins.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Igs,” the Shield purred, licking a hot, wet stripe up the column of Ignis’s neck. (Ignis secretly hoped he still tasted vaguely of mud and algae. It would serve the handsome idiot right.) But then Gladio’s mouth moved back to his ear as he added, “Sorry for being a stubborn ass. Maybe lemme make it up to you later?” He punctuated this offer with a nip at Ignis’s earlobe.

The tactician avoided squirming in his seat, but only just. _Thank the Six for comfortable jeans_.

“Maybe,” he replied instead, aware that he was only provoking his lover more, but unable to help himself. Gladio could no doubt see the curl of Ignis’s smirk in the rearview mirror. Before the big man could retaliate, however, he firmly planted his hand against Gladio’s face and gave him a gentle shove back into his seat.

The low, rumbling laugh that echoed out from behind him sent a wave of warmth across Ignis’s skin that had nothing to do with the balmy Vesperpool air.

*

“ _Finally_ , thank the Astrals.”

The Regalia’s engine had barely cut before Noctis was throwing himself out of the car, groaning and stretching as though they’d been driving all day, as opposed to the not-even-two hours they’d actually been on the road. The Prince waited for Prompto to climb out of the passenger’s seat before collaring the blond around the shoulders with his arm. “C’mon, Prom, you and I have a date with the Justice Monsters machine,” he crooned cheerfully and had started to direct them toward the outpost’s sole convenience store when a heavy hand fell on the back of his neck, yanking him backwards. Prompto, carried by the Prince’s momentum, tumbled back a step with him.

“I don’t think so, Princess,” Gladio growled, his gaze sliding over to the front of the Regalia, where Ignis had paused in curiosity. “Ignis is gonna go set us up with a caravan for the night, then go take the hot shower he deserves. You, me, and Blondie have a date with the laundry machines and a shit-ton of dirty clothes.”

Noctis looked quite put out. “Aww, seriously, dude?” But he had the good grace not to complain beyond that once Gladio’s grip began to tighten on the nape of his neck, instead grumbling, “ _Fine_ , whatever.” He snagged Prompto by the hand and drug the blond with him as he made for the trunk of the Regalia.

Gladio’s warm amber eyes continued to hold onto Ignis, waiting for approval. It certainly wasn’t what the advisor had had in mind when Gladio had promised to make it up to him, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn down the chance at a hot shower _and_ someone else doing the washing for a change. So he gave the Shield a brief nod and a small smile, letting a bit of warmth back into his voice as he replied, “An overall amenable plan, I believe.”

The answering smile Gladio flashed him was a bit disorienting in its brilliance.

“Go on then,” he said with a nod at the caravan. “I got these two idiots.” Then he was circling around the back of the car, already haranguing Noctis as he scoffed, “Seriously, Princess? You can’t carry more than that? Fine, you wanna be a pussy, Blondie and I will get this, and you can run down to the diner to turn in that hunt. Least we’ll get a warm meal out that shit show today.” His bellowing voice was pitched to carry, undoubtedly for Ignis’s benefit, and the advisor let his resulting smile carry him away from his bickering lovers as he left to settle their lodgings for the night.

Ten minutes later, he had cranked the little air conditioner in the caravan as cold as it would go and was standing directly in front of the blast of decadently chilled air as he began to undress for his shower. The fly of his jeans was already open, the loose material sliding slightly down his slender hips and exposing the aqua fabric of his borrowed undergarments.

He’d begun to pull his shirt up and over his head when he heard the door of the caravan click open (he could have sworn he’d locked it) followed by Prompto’s cheerful voice, “Hey, Igster, sorry to bust in, but Gladio wants to know if…”

The blond fell silent the same moment Ignis tugged free from his shirt with a burst of static.

Ignis had to reach up to adjust his glasses, but as the room came back into focus, he found Prompto frozen a few feet away, his blue eyes impossibly wide as he drank in every inch of the advisor. A flush had already started up his neck, stealing across his face and making its way steadily to the tips of his ears, and his lips parted slightly as his gaze seemed to catch on the flash of blue and neon yellow at Ignis’s waist.

“ _Shit_ ,” he breathed, and Ignis watched his throat bob as he swallowed thickly.

Uncertain whether he should be concerned or aroused, the advisor tossed his shirt aside and raised a questioning eyebrow at his young lover. “Are you alright, Prompto?”

Prom swallowed again, this time with an audible _click_ , as his voice hitched. “Iggy, you… Y-you’re, um…” A heated gaze made another pass up and over the advisor’s body and when Prompto’s eyes again caught at the fly of Ignis’s jeans, the older man felt his cock give a twitch of interest.

“Yes…?” Ignis drew out the word.

Kittenish white teeth clamped down on the gunman’s bottom lip as he sucked in a shaky breath, then all his thoughts spilled out in a rush with his exhale. “ _Dudeyou’rewearingmyboxers._ ”

This brought a frown to the advisor. “I am,” he confirmed, as though it weren’t perfectly obvious. “I did ask first, if you recall.” He waited for Prompto to respond, and when the blond remained silent, he felt himself flush a bit, the first touch of shame creeping across his thoughts. Noctis and Prompto traded undergarments all the time, but perhaps Ignis had presumed too much? “I apologize if it was inappropriate, I would never intentionally-”

“ _That’s so hot_ ,” Prom interrupted, and oh. Well then.

The start of a hesitant smile curled at the corner of Ignis’s mouth. “It is?” he ventured.

“Fuck yes.” Slowly easing forward, the blond moved into the older man’s personal space, one tentative finger tracing a line from Ignis’s navel to the waistband of his boxer briefs. “I mean… _dude_. You’re wearing _my_ boxers.” He sounded in awe, marveling at Ignis as though he were seeing him for the first time.

Not that he wasn’t enjoying the attention, but Ignis had to admit to being a bit confused what the novelty was. Trying to focus past the distracting glide of Prompto’s fingers against his abdomen, he pointed out, “You and Noctis trade clothing all the time, do you not?”

Prompto snorted. “Well, yeah, but that’s Noct. We just do that shit. This is…” He shrugged helplessly. “I mean, _shit_ , it’s _you_ , Iggy. Like… I don’t know, it’s like… you’re really _mine_.” The moment the words left his mouth, the blond’s eyes went wide and his gaze instantly dropped to the floor, a bright red blush splashing across his cheeks. “Shit! I d-didn’t – I mean, l-like…”

Making an executive decision to prevent his sweet love from stuttering himself to death, Ignis dipped quickly down and pressed a kiss against Prom’s mouth, effectively silencing him. He tried to press all his thoughts and feelings into that kiss: it ached his heart how the gunman still doubted his importance to them all – doubted how much they all cherished him, how they were all so much less without him. When he was certain the blond was listening, he let his hands drift down to the gunman’s slender hips, his thumbs tracing slow, enticing circles into his skin. “I _am_ really yours, darling,” he murmured. Then, feigning a thoughtful glance, he amended playfully, “Well, yours, and Noctis’s, and Gladio’s, as well.”

Prompto’s smile had gone a little watery, but he huffed out a laugh. “But you’re not wearing their underwear.”

Grinning impishly, Ignis conceded, “No, I’m not.”

Something about those words appeared to tug the blond back from whatever emotional edge he’d been hovering on, and Ignis watched his pupils dilate hungrily as his warm, calloused fingers went back to tracing lines into Ignis’s skin. His touch was impossibly light, teasing, an unspoken question, and it sent velvety hot desire ebbing through Ignis’s veins.

“So, uh,” Prompto purred, “not gonna lie, but… I think it’d be totally hot if you let me suck your dick right now.”

_Goodness_.

Ignis’s cock was already quite interested in the proceedings happening at his waistband, but that statement alone sent a thick, heady rush of blood straight to his groin and he found his mouth suddenly rather dry. “By all means,” he managed to answer, not quite able to hide the soft catch in his breath. As Prompto surged up on his tiptoes to press one more solid kiss against his mouth, Ignis felt his eyes flutter shut, electric with the feel of hands on his skin and teeth at his lips. Even when that delectable mouth left his own, Ignis almost forgot to reopen them, and gods, that would have been a tragedy, because the sight of Prompto lowering himself gracefully and purposefully to his knees in front of him was an image the older man wanted to live in for the rest of his life.

The blond held his gaze just long enough to send another shiver racing down Ignis’s spine, then ravenous indigo eyes slid slowly down the advisor’s body until he could fully take in the sight immediately before him. Prom’s tongue danced out to drag over his lips as he stared at Ignis’s length, fully hard and straining impatiently against the bright blue and yellow patterned fabric.

Ignis felt as much as heard the breath punch out of the blond’s chest. “Godsdamn, baby.”

Then Prompto was leaning forward, his delicate freckled nose tracing up and down Ignis’s clothed cock, warm breath sending delirious sparks of tingling pleasure through Ignis’s limbs. Gun-calloused fingers curled around Ignis’s thighs as Prom paused to mouth hotly at the head of Ignis’s cock, his bottom lip dragging in beautiful, obscene slow motion as it caught on the ridge.

Long fingers fidgeting and furling into fists at his side, Ignis had to remind himself to breath as Prom finally hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his boxer briefs and tugged them slowly down, freeing Ignis’s cock to spring loose and bob invitingly against Prompto’s cheek. The blond needed no further invitation, turning his head enough to lave a long, wet trail up the underside before stopping to swirl his tongue deftly across Ignis’s slit.

Heavy, hazy need started a slow coil in the bottom of Ignis’s gut as he watched it all, fascinated with the pinkness of his lover’s mouth and the burnished gold of his hair. When Prom finally closed his lips around Ignis, the advisor couldn’t stop the whine that swept up out of his chest.

Immediately Prompto’s moan answered around Ignis’s cock, humming down his length, and gods if _that_ wasn’t a maddening sensation, sparking to life new tendrils of electric sensation all through Ignis’s body. The advisor bit down hard on his bottom lip, forcing himself to reel back from where he’d very nearly been drifting toward the edge. Prompto had a knack for undoing him so much more quickly than his other lovers. Noctis could rile him, make him demanding and rough, all fingertip-shaped bruises and bite marks, while Gladio’s slow, lazy lovemaking could drift on for hours, breaking him down atom by atom until he was a quivering mass of exhaustion by the time his release found him. But Prompto was sensual, pressing his love into Ignis’s skin with his fingertips, leaving traces of his adoration with lips and tongue. Every move he made spoke wordlessly of his devotion, his respect, his passion, tangling itself around Ignis’s body and mind and heart until he was coming apart at the seams and could no more stop it than he could stop the tides. And now, something new, something Ignis could only name as _possessiveness_ as the blond poured all his focus into pleasing his older lover.

Prompto had his mouth fully around Ignis now, one hand left to twist temptingly at the base while his other rolled Ignis’s heavy sac between his fingers. It was too, too much and still not nearly enough.

And then Prom dared to open those devastating sapphire eyes and raise them to Ignis’s face, shuttered by impossibly pale lashes, his pupils blown wide with want.

Ignis was helpless against it. “A-ah! Darling, I’m not – _gods_ – not going to be able to – _mmm_ – to last much – _shit!_ ”

At the first broken word from the advisor’s mouth, the blond had picked up the pace, his mouth and tongue dancing along Ignis’s shaft as though it was his sole purpose in life to get Ignis off. With each pass, he sunk Ignis’s cock deeper into his mouth until –

“ _Gods…!”_

The head of his cock hit the back of Prompto’s throat, and it was all he could do not to collapse as he toppled into oblivion, spilling himself down that beautiful throat and heedless to all the world except Prompto, his fingers tangling desperately into the gunman’s soft hair. Prompto swallowed him through to the very last throes, mouth continuing to move until Ignis made him stop, his knees threatening to give.

Ignis fumbled clumsily for the blond’s hand, tugging him up, wanting – _needing_ – to kiss him, needing the feel of his lover against his burning skin. Prompto came willingly, his arms wrapping around Ignis’s neck as the older man drew him in by his hips, slotting his thigh in between Prompto’s legs so he could feel the gunman’s hardness against him. Prom ground himself greedily down, kissing a low, pleading moan into Ignis’s mouth as his blunt nails dug into Ignis’s shoulders. His body was tense under Ignis’s exploring hands.

Still riding the heady high of his orgasm, the tactician let his fingers wander down to the button of the blond’s jeans, fumbling at the zipper until it gave in the way of his dogged determination, at last allowing him access to Prompto’s ridiculously hard and steadily weeping cock. He wrapped his elegant fingers around it eagerly, dragging at the silken flesh, his thumb gliding through the slick of precum leaking from the slit.

“Nnngh,” the gunman whimpered into the curve of Ignis’s jaw, “ _shitshitshit_ , Iggy, I can’t…”

But Ignis was lost to the moment, adrift in the exquisite feeling of Prompto falling apart at his touch.

“Iggy… Ignis… _please_.” Prompto begged, oblivious to what he was even asking for, but Ignis tightened his grip and hastened his strokes all the same, infatuated with the tiny pleading noises echoing up from the blond as he steadily worked his cock. He could feel the steady throb of his young lover and delighted in the continuous stream of curses spilling from lips, as much as he adored the constant flood of slick dripping incessantly from the head of Prom’s cock.

It took only a moment before the blond was gasping, his fingers digging painfully into Ignis’s back. “Oh gods… Iggy, I’m gonna come…!”

Ignis could think of no better reason to increase the speed of his strokes, even as Prompto thrust his hips desperately up to meet him, setting a frantic rhythm between them that only lasted seconds before the blond was spilling across his hand and chest with an agonizing moan. Ignis felt luscious wet warmth hit his stomach, stream over his fist, and drip decadently down onto his bunched boxers and jeans. He half-laughed, half-moaned a noise of utter satisfaction and approval into the side of Prompto’s neck, even as the blond panted breathlessly into his shoulder.

Minutes, or possibly hours, or maybe even days passed as they melted into each other, gentle touches and exploring mouths and miles of skin laid against skin, until coherency dared to sneak back into their shared thoughts.

“Hottest. Thing. Ever.” Prompto’s disheveled voice broke the silence first, accompanied by a sultry laugh. “Eleven out of ten, would blow again.”

Ignis felt himself laugh despite the absolute awfulness of the reference. “Assuming I would even _let_ you blow again, considering the mess you’ve made of me,” he teased, glancing down at his borrowed boxer briefs and emergency back-up jeans, both now stained and sticky with sweat and spilled seed.

“You totally would,” Prompto snorted, without a trace of arrogance; just that beautiful, hopeful openness that tended to claim him in unguarded moments. “You love me.”

“That I do.” The advisor couldn’t even argue, nor would he ever wish to.

Nudging his nose fondly against Ignis’s jaw, Prompto indulged them both in a moment of wordless cuddling before announcing pointedly, “Well. At least we’ve got Gladio in charge of getting all our clothes clean.”

The pair managed to keep straight faces for roughly half a minute before they both dissolved into helpless laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, no. Omg. I can't even.
> 
> Thank you so, _so_ much for all the comments and suggestions and subscriptions and kudos, you're all so kind. I don't deserve it.
> 
> That said, here, have some Friday Promnis with a side order of Mack Daddy Gladdy. (He just wants to love all his bois.)
> 
> But no worries! Gladio and Ignis will have their day! Except right now the next chapter is planned to be IgNoct, because I've got a heart-on for Mama Iggy fussing over his Princeling.
> 
> (Also, why are blowjobs so hard to write? *sobs* It's been years since I've written a sex scene, so I apologize if it's trash.)
> 
> Unbeta'ed, again, so please alert me to any glaring massive errors, especially as I'm posting this while exhausted and slightly wine-drunk.
> 
> You all are the best. So much love.


	3. Slow Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “I wanna watch,” Noct challenged.
>> 
>> “Next time,” Ignis promised, in his most placating voice.
>> 
>> “You owe me.”
>> 
>> At Ignis’s nod of agreement, Noct stalked to his feet, a little unsteady but apparently not as drunk as Gladio had suspected. Gladio, meanwhile, was trying to recover from feeling like he’d just slept through the most important play of a blitzball match and was trying to catch up on the action from a foreign commentator. He watched Noct stoop to tug at Prompto, who was already starting to doze on the ground. “Wait, what just…?” he began.
> 
> In which Ignis is drunk and Gladio's boxers are a lost cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is _not_ the chapter I had planned.
> 
> The chapter I _had_ planned is sitting two-thirds finished on my flash drive, being as stubborn and uncooperative as a nap-deprived Noctis. This bit of Gladnis porn is literally the brain child of last night written on my work pc this morning between seeing patients. xD I have no shame.
> 
> Also omg you guys. The comments. The kudos. The subs. I am so heart eyes over here for y'all. Thank you so, so much from the bottom of my heart.

Chapter 3: Slow Hands

_fingertips puttin' on a show_

_got me now and I can't say no_

_wanna be with you all alone_

_take me home, take me home_

_slow hands_

_like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry_

_no, no chance_

_that I'm leaving here without you on me_

_I, I know_

_yeah, I already know that there ain't no stoppin'_

_your plans and those_

_slow hands_

*

At first he wanted to be pissed at Noct, because they were supposed to be going out hunting tonight after the sun went down, taking out a couple of Mindflayers that’d been giving Wiz trouble. In fact, he was just about to cuff the kid upside his stupid head and tell him off when Noct produced a bottle of liquor, waving it enticingly in Gladio’s face with a shit-eating grin.

“Look what Wiz had in his special stock,” he gloated.

Damn it if the little shit hadn’t somehow come up with the Shield’s favorite caramel apple whisky. He couldn’t exactly be pissed at him for that.

The other bottle he’d acquired was some sort of cake-flavored vodka, for which the Prince had also bought cream soda to mix, and he’d even had the foresight to grab a bag of ice as well. Prompto appeared eagerly at Noctis’s elbow to help make drinks, and even Ignis sat his laptop down and was eyeing the proceedings with interest.

Gladio still wanted to frown. He’d been looking forward to smashing up some daemons, truth be told, and Noct had pretty much just bribed him into a night of drunken debauchery instead.

“The Mindflayers will still be there tomorrow night.” Noctis’s voice pulled the Shield out of his mild sulk. “And Wiz even said it wasn’t a huge rush.” Then the Prince had an idea that not only erased the last of Gladio’s brooding, but managed to remind him just how much he actually loved the sarcastic little shithead. “Hey Specs, you know what? I bet this stuff would taste _awesome_ mixed with Ebony.”

Ignis’s entire face lit up and holy shit, that was something Gladio could never get enough of.

“Well, I had better put that theory to the test then,” the advisor announced.

That settled that.

*

Three and a half hours and four and a half drinks later, Gladio could’ve kissed Noct for the idea. Nah, shit, scratch that – he _was_ gonna kiss Noct for the idea. He slung an arm around the Prince, who was draped languidly in his white plastic deck chair, looking for all the world like a sated cat.

“C’mere, babe,” Gladio hummed, scooting his chair so it tucked right up against the younger man’s, then taking advantage of the reduced distance to curl Noct into the warmth of his shoulder. He nosed lovingly at the Prince’s jaw, letting his fingers brush the mess of obsidian locks back from those godsdamned impossible midnight blue eyes so he could watch Noct properly as he leaned in to steal a kiss. Noct’s mouth moved immediately to greet him, all soft lips and slow sliding tongue, licking the caramel sweetness of Gladio’s whisky out of his mouth to mingle pleasantly with the vanilla flavor of Noct’s own drink. When the Shield made to pull away, Noct nipped down on Gladio’s lower lip and startled a chuckle out of him. “Gods, you’re so fucking cute when you wanna be.”

“Shut up,” Noctis grumbled, but there was a flush to his face that couldn’t be _entirely_ attributed to the alcohol. “S’nothing. ‘Sides, look at these two adorable bastards.” He gestured, a little wobbly, with his drink at their other two lovers and Gladio followed his gaze, amused.

Across the table, in the dull glow of what passed for a porch light on their rented caravan, Prompto and Ignis sat with their heads pressed together over Ignis’s laptop. The younger blond had plunked in his camera’s SD card a few minutes ago to prove a point, after Ignis had brazenly declared that all pictures of himself inevitably came out awkward or too serious.

“See? See, right there, Igs,” Prompto was crowing. Ignis squinted at the screen suspiciously, though he was probably just having trouble seeing past Prom’s mop of unruly gold hair. “Oh. Em. Gee. Cutest Iggy ever! Lookit your cute nose!” The gunman lifted a hand, likely with the intention of booping Ignis on his aforementioned charming feature, but ended up missing the mark entirely and jabbing Ignis in the cheek.

Ignis only snorted and made an attempt to grab Prom’s hand that resulted in tangling their fingers. “Come now, s’nothing special.” He feigned a heavily dramatic sigh. “Alas, I shall never have your level of delightful presh… preshen… preshush…” Ignis frowned as the word eluded him. “You’re bloody cute.”

A bark of laughter escaped Gladio, even as he felt Noct press his face into the Shield’s chest, trying to smother his mirth. “Iggy, you lush, you’re drunk!” he teased.

Absurdly, the scowl the advisor sent him was kinda sexy. “Am not,” Ignis hissed.

“Are so,” came Noctis’s muffled retort from beneath Gladio’s arm. “Tell ‘im, Prom.”

“Dude, you are soooo drunk, Igster,” Prompto chimed in, then nearly fell out of his chair as he had tried to lean back to look at Ignis properly.

Ignis arched an elegant brow. “You’re one to talk.”

But the gunman was dissolving into giggles, and when the advisor attempted to frown sternly at him, it only made the matter worse. “Oh my gods, Iggy. I need a pic of you, like, _right_ now. Hashtag sexy drunk boy,” Prom managed to gasp. Luckily for Ignis, the younger man made no move to retrieve his camera, instead sliding helplessly and bonelessly onto the ground.

Gladio made the executive decision that it was probably time for bed.

“All right, you lightweights,” he announced, freeing himself from the Prince’s squid arms and earning himself a sad little whine for the effort. “Before Blondie hurts himself or Iggy breaks something.” He paused. “Or someone. C’mon, bed.” In earnest, he was only pleasantly buzzed, his posture steady and sure as he got to his feet. But his smaller boyfriends were certainly not going to last another round without unpleasant consequences in the morning. As it was, he realized he’d failed to track just how much the others were drinking.

Ah well. Their hangovers were their own fault, then. He wasn’t their dad.

He moved easily around the table, intent on hooking his arms underneath Prompto and scooping the small blond up. “C’mon, short stuff, you’re with me-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Ignis’s threatening, if slightly slurred, tone froze Gladio in his steps. “You’re not consigning me to that tiny pull-out bed with His Highness the personal space invader.” He pointed an accusing finger in Noctis’s general direction. “He also steals the blankets.”

Noct leered at the older man. “You’ve never bitched about me invading your personal space before, Specs.”

But Ignis’s too calculating, too green gaze was sliding from the Prince to the Shield, and oh shit, here it came. The advisor locked him in, the sharpness of jade sea glass softened under the sheen of good alcohol and Gladio knew he was about to agree to whatever the next words out Ignis’s mouth might be.

“Maybe I want _Gladio_ to invade my personal space,” he hummed. Somehow the words managed to come out about a hundred times filthier and needier than they had any right to.

Gladio’s dick took immediate interest.

“Uh. Okay. Yeah. Shit, yeah, whatever you want, Iggy.” It took him a moment, but his brain finally caught up with everything. “Just, um, let me, uh. Lemme grab Blondie and carry him into bed.”

Immediately Ignis spoke up, “Noct will take care of him. Won’t you, Highness?”

A frown creased Gladio’s brow. He hardly doubted the Prince was gonna be cool with that. Most evenings it was all Noct could manage to get _himself_ into bed, and Gladio had manhandled him through the process on more than one occasion. But when the Shield glanced to his charge to gauge the younger man’s reaction, he found Noctis staring down his advisor with startling intensity.

“I wanna watch,” Noct challenged.

“Next time,” Ignis promised, in his most placating voice.

“You owe me.”

At Ignis’s nod of agreement, Noct stalked to his feet, a little unsteady but apparently not as drunk as Gladio had suspected. Gladio, meanwhile, was trying to recover from feeling like he’d just slept through the most important play of a blitzball match and was trying to catch up on the action from a foreign commentator. He watched Noct stoop to tug at Prompto, who was already starting to doze on the ground. “Wait, what just…?” he began.

Ignis was at his side and drifting enticingly around him in the span of a breath. “They’ll be fine,” his voice was dick-numbingly gravelly, curling through Gladio’s mind like a favorite song. “Now come with me.”

As if Gladio could disobey. Pretty sure his feet were moving of their own accord, caught in the wake of the beautiful, slightly-swaying advisor as he was led unceremoniously through the caravan and straight back to the single bedroom. Gladio kicked the door shut behind them, certain he was about to be bodily tackled by six feet of sexy, drunken Ignis.

Except that definitely didn’t happen. And Gladio definitely did a shit job hiding his disappointment.

Impossibly graceful, even in his inebriation, Ignis perched himself on the edge of the queen bed that took up the majority of the room, his arms stretched behind him and back arched as he eyed Gladio. “Hmm, what’s that look for?” he hummed, head tilting delicately to the side to expose the pale column of his neck.

“Uh. No reason?” Gladio felt so wrong footed.

Ignis shrugged, smirking. “If you say so.” He continued to stare the Shield down, which was having some very serious tightening effects on the front of his pants. Whatever mood Ignis was presently in was one Gladio had never encountered before, some vodka-and-Ebony-induced madness that was threatening to make _him_ lose his damned mind.

He survived a full minute of that silent, disconcerting gaze before he was forced to look away, even as his dick continued to pay Ignis its undivided attention. “So…” he hedged. “Did you want to get around for bed?”

“No,” Ignis answered simply.

“Oookay…” He tried gazing up coyly through his eyelashes, a move he’d witnessed both Noctis and Prompto utilize before to great effect – usually on himself. “Did you maybe wanna fool around then?”

“No.”

“Ooo _kay_ …” Gladio huffed a sigh of frustration. What in the name Ifrit’s flaming nutsack had gotten into Ignis? Not that he was trying to oversell himself or anything, but all it normally took was a few flirty comments and a lingering touch or two from the Shield to have the advisor fumbling over his own fingers to get his pants off. And he adored how eager Ignis always seemed to be for him; it made him feel _wanted_ – hell, it made him feel _loved_. Ignis wasn’t a man given to flowery, romantic declarations, but he could pour every last drop of love and devotion into his actions, particularly when naked. And Gladio had been so ready for that when they’d walked in to the caravan, except now he was confused and horny and –

“I’d like you to undress and lay down so I might explore every inch of you,” Ignis’s request was almost a whisper, but Gladio felt it like a shockwave.

_That’s more like it_.

Now he was the one practically falling over himself to get his clothes off, and he decided he might just like this new side of Ignis after all. Not knowing what to expect next was definitely doing it for him.

His boots, jeans, and shirt came off with minimal fumbling, but he paused when he got to his dark red boxer briefs and gave Ignis a questing look.

The corner of the advisor’s mouth quirked up in an enticing grin. “Leave them on… for now.”

_Shit_. If Gladio hadn’t already been hard as fucking mythril, that would’ve done for him in a second. As it was, his cock twitched eagerly and he felt the first hints of a wet spot soaking into the cotton of his boxers, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Ignis stretched to his feet and nodded toward the now-empty bed. Gladio wasted no time in flinging himself down gracelessly.

For a long moment, Ignis only studied him, taking in the entirety of the future King’s Shield, heated green gaze lingering on defined muscle, golden-tan skin, and of course the thick length straining indignantly against its fabric prison. Gladio tucked his arms behind his head and let one knee fall open and to the side, shifting into what he liked to think was the perfect posture of casual seduction. And for the moment, at least, it worked, as the next sensation he registered was Ignis’s glorious long fingers gliding warmly up his calves, circling behind his knees, dragging blunt nails up the insides of his thighs.

A broken sigh stuttered its way out of Gladio’s chest. “Ah, _fuck_ , Igs.”

Ignis hummed a note of satisfaction but said nothing, continuing his tactile journey of Gladio’s body. Dagger-calloused fingertips danced over his ribcage, tracing each muscled line of his abdomen. Hot palms ghosted over his chest, pausing to allow slender thumbs to ride the arc of his collarbones. Ignis himself sat just to Gladio’s side, still frustratingly clothed – a fact Gladio was quick to point out.

“Astrals, Iggy, I’m gonna let you handle the foreplay from now on,” he rasped out breathlessly, his back arching when Ignis’s index finger dipped to circle his navel. In an effort to distract himself, he reached for the hem of Ignis’s t-shirt. “Why don’t you get rid of this so I can-”

A single long digit pressed against his lips. “Shh. No more talking.”

Had… had Iggy just fucking _shushed_ him?

As if he sensed the Shield’s thoughts, Ignis murmured a toe-curling low laugh and added, “Just close your eyes, darling. Enjoy.” He punctuated his words by dragging a fingernail over Gladio’s peaked nipple. “The only sounds I want to hear from you now are those from pleasure.”

So Gladio did exactly as he was told. With eyes closed, he gave himself over to the sensation of Ignis’s hands on his body, and let his lover know exactly how he was feeling with each hitched breath and low moan. It might have been minutes or hours laying there, Ignis’s beautiful fingers grazing and stroking and plucking across Gladio like a musician lovingly tuning his instrument, and Gladio’s whole being sung with the effort.

His pleasure snuck up on him without warning.

He’d never, in his life, been what the Guards in the locker room always crassly joked about as a ‘two-pump chump.’ Even at the height of his awkward teenage years when hormones had every slight breeze bringing his cock to immediate and painful attention, he’d always possessed a stamina that was enviable. He’d learned his own limits the hard way, through hours alone in the dark of his bedroom, the LucisPorn app open nonstop on his phone. A decade later, and with three younger lovers to satisfy on the regular, it had become a point of pride for him.

But tonight was something completely new, and perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised by his body’s new reaction, but all he knew was one second he was reveling in the feel of Ignis’s pinky dipping a teasing line along the waistband of his boxers and the next, the telltale rush of blood and heat through his core had him sitting frantically up, grasping for the base of his dick through his boxers.

“Shit, _shit_ , ahh shit, I can’t, I-” he had no idea what he was even saying; his entire focus was on not coming at that exact second.

Which was why he was completely unprepared for Ignis’s grip on his wrists, forcing his hands away from his aching, desperate cock and above his head. His lover had swung over top of him as well, pinning his hips as he thrust up for a touch that was being denied.

“Please, please, please, Iggy, I’m gonna…”

“I know,” Ignis purred, lips so close to Gladio’s ear that the Shield could feel his words seeping into his skin. “I want to see you fall apart. Come for me, Gladio.” And then that sinful mouth was on Gladio’s neck, biting and licking, and fingernails were digging into his forearms and for fuck’s sake. Like an overloaded circuit, Gladio’s brain cut out as a current of pleasure cascaded through his body and he was groaning his way through an impossible orgasm.

Decades later (or maybe it had only been seconds; post-coital time was so hard to judge), it was Ignis’s breathless laughter against his neck and the sticky discomfort of his own spend saturating into his boxers that brought him back to Eos.

“What. The fuck.” Each word left on its own heavy breath. “Ignis. Did you just.” He opened his eyes to find his lover poised over him, adorned in a triumphant smile. “You just made me come in my boxers.”

“Mm, yes, and it was an absolute treat to watch,” the advisor was adorably smug.

Gladio let his head fall back against the bed. As if trying to process thoughts with orgasm brain wasn’t bad enough, this newly-discovered dominant Iggy was gonna do his whole fucking head in. And then Iggy had to go and open his beautiful mouth again.

“Does that mean you’re too spent to let me ride you?”

Yep. Fuck. Gladio was pretty much dead.

“Wuh?” He struggled to sit up, to pull some semblance of coherence back into his head, but Ignis was already on the move, deftly unbuttoning his own pants and divesting himself of all his clothing until the entirety of his gorgeous, long body was on display. Then he was gently freeing Gladio from the damp, clinging confines of his boxers. Gladio hissed as his still embarrassingly-hard cock sprung loose and slapped against his abdomen with an obscene wet noise.

Ignis had the decency to look mildly abashed. “Sorry about the mess.”

“It’s cool,” Gladio snorted a laugh. “I know the guy who does the laundry.”

Sage green eyes rolled toward the ceiling in exasperation, but that did not stop the hand that curled loosely around Gladio’s cock, or the way the advisor was stretching to retrieve a bottle of lube from the bedside stand. “Then I suggest you stay in his good graces,” Ignis suggested as he spread the cool gel first across the searing hot skin of Gladio’s member and then over three of his own fingers.

The Shield watched with rapt attention as his remarkable lover reached a hand behind himself and slid one delicate long digit slowly inside. A soft moan tumbled from Ignis’s lips, then another as he drug his finger languidly in and out of his own body, adding a second only moments later.

It was all Gladio could do to keep still as he watched, not wanting to interrupt the show. Ignis so rarely exhibited himself like this; more often than not, it was Gladio pinning Ignis’s hips to the bed with one broad arm while he coaxed the younger man loose with long, leisurely thrusts until Ignis was mewling and begging to be filled. Then he would take him with all the sensuous, tender affection that his exquisite love deserved.

The version of Ignis presently straddling his hips looked more interested in fucking Gladio’s actual brains out then gently making love.

Already he’d traded riding his own fingers to instead drag the thick head of Gladio’s dick torturously back and forth across the now-loose ring of muscle, forcing the Shield to fist his fingers into the bedsheets to stop himself from thrusting up. Gladio rode the edge of overstimulation, still electric from his previous pleasure, but aching now for the next wave.

_Ebony and cake vodka: the ultimate aphrodisiac. Who woulda thought?_

The giddy notion swept instantly out of his head the moment Gladio felt Ignis start to lower himself down onto his cock. There was no pause for adjustment, no going by careful inches as Ignis sank down with purpose, and Gladio could do nothing to stop the growl that scraped up out of him as he found himself buried to the hilt in Ignis’s perfect tight ass. Against his chest, Ignis’s fingers flexed and furled, and it was all the preparation Gladio got before Ignis was rocking hard against him, a frenetic pace that threatened to knock the breath right out of the Shield. They’d gone at it fast and furious before, of course, most often when the other two were involved, but always with gradual build up, and always with Gladio in the lead.

Currently Gladio was staggering just to catch up as Ignis fucked him with purpose. Already a flush of color had spread high across the advisor’s cheeks, his bottom lip caught between the vice of his teeth as he brought himself down again and again to bury the Shield fully inside his body. Gladio’s gaze caught on Ignis’s own cock, bright red tip smearing a wet trail across the advisor’s own abs, and Gladio could think only of how badly he wanted to lick it, and how hot and tight and intense everything in the world was, and by the Six, if Iggy kept this up, he was going to be lost again and-

Abruptly Ignis pulled off him entirely, his chest heaving as he fought to draw breath. His eyes were clenched shut.

Gladio felt his hips roll helplessly up into the empty space. “Iggy… fuck… what…?”

“Don’t want to come yet,” was Ignis’s breathless response. A moment later his eyes were open again, clear green and impossibly bright with lust, and Gladio’s cock was being engulfed in that scorching, unyielding heat yet again. More long minutes of fierce, deep thrusts, and Ignis hissing through his teeth, and Gladio groaning his delight from the deepest depths of his being.

The second time Ignis left him completely unsheathed, the Shield actually whined, and there was another first in his entire life. “Ignis, godsdamn it, you gotta quit that!”

The noise Ignis made in response fell somewhere between a growl and a sob. “N-not… not yet… nnngh, it’s too good…” he gasped, and only seconds later, he was riding Gladio again.

Shiva’s fucking tits, this beautiful man was actually going to kill him.

Now Gladio’s hips were arching to meet each fevered thrust and he could feel the tingling need starting to trace through his veins, his body warning him of the nearing precipice, and gods, he was so ready to take that leap. His focus was filled with the heady sounds of Ignis’s gasps, the slick and slide rhythm of each thrust that was steadfastly unknotting the fragile string tied around his self-control. And the thought of plunging into Ignis’s gorgeous, wanting body, and spilling his seed deep inside as Ignis tightened around him, and-

“Fucking _godsdamn it_!” Gladio roared, because Ignis was trying to pull off him again, and nuh-uh, not even happening, his balls were already screaming for release. “Don’t you dare!” His hands locked around Ignis’s hips. His fingertips were probably leaving bruises in that alabaster skin, but all Gladio cared about was arching his back to the exact perfect angle that he knew would have him slamming into Ignis’s prostate. He thrust with all he had, every last ounce of coiled power in his body, and then his release was singing through him like a filthy hymn, wave after wave as he coated the inside of the advisor’s body with his spend. He barely even registered Ignis clenching and crying out on top of him, ropes of pearly come painting the space in between them as Ignis’s orgasm was finally rung from him.

Chest heaving, the sound and smell and warmth of Ignis wrapped all around him, Gladio closed his eyes, and that was the last thing he remembered for a time.

*

The clock insisted it was only a little after three when Gladio snored himself out of a sound sleep. He glared back at the glowing red numbers, trying to decipher what had actually woken him, when a tiny shiver crawled through his skin.

Ah. He was cold.

Probably because he was butt-ass naked. With no blanket.

He flung a hand out blindly, searching for the covers, and found them all bunched up around the curled form of the future King’s advisor, who had his face buried in a pillow and was deeply, peacefully asleep. Gladio stifled a laugh, gently shifting and tugging on the sheets until he could slide into Ignis’s cocoon of warmth and wrap himself around his slumbering lover.

He decided he wouldn’t tell Noct about his advisor’s blanket thieving. But only if Ignis agreed to always keep cake-flavored vodka and Ebony on hand.


	4. The Way I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Just as Prom feels like he’s about to get lost in all the massive space of Noct’s bed, he feels fingers knot into the front of his shirt and suddenly he’s got an armful of cuddly, sleepy Prince. Noct tucks one knee between Prom’s legs and lets his forehead rest against Prom’s chest, as he’d done on the couch. “Glad you stayed,” he murmurs.
>> 
>> “Thanks for letting me,” the blond answers back, trying to ignore how his heart is trying to beat out of his chest just now. Gods, but he’s so gone for this ridiculous, moody asshole, and it’s such a terrible idea, falling in love with the Crown Prince of Lucis, and it’s gonna hurt so bad somewhere down the road when he has to watch Noct fall in love with and marry someone else, but.
>> 
>> But maybe. Just for this moment.
> 
> In which Noctis gives Prompto the shirt off his back, and Prompto gives Noctis his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is _still_ not the promised IgNoct chapter.
> 
> What this is, is 6500-odd words of soft bois being soft that would not leave my brain until I got it all out. So here, have some Tuesday Promptis :D
> 
> Also, I apparently cannot write Prompto in anything but present tense, so I apologize for the tense switch
> 
> Also, thank you everyone so much for all the support <3 I'm garbage at responding to my comments, but please know that every single kudos, comment, sub, and bookmark means as much to me as Noct means to Prom <3<3<3

Chapter 4: The Way I Am

_if you are chilly_

_here, take my sweater_

_your head is aching_

_I'll make it better_

_‘cause I love you more than I could ever promise_

_and you take me the way I am_

_you take me the way I am_

*

Prompto is ten minutes late and five seconds away from crying when he meets Noctis in front of the school, because _shit_ he’d forgotten he’d dropped off all his school uniform jackets at the dry cleaner’s yesterday, and _shit_ , he’d forgotten he was supposed to pick them up this morning after his run, and _shit_ , he’s already gotten one write-up this year already for a uniform violation, and _shit_ , he’s only been kinda-friends with the freaking _Prince_ for less than two weeks and now he’s gonna ruin it all because the Prince of Lucis can’t have kinda-friends who get detentions and-

“Whoa, Prom.” Noctis takes one look at the blond’s panicked expression and instantly his hands are on Prompto’s shoulders, warm and steadying. He probably looks like an absolute disaster and yeah, Noctis _definitely_ isn’t gonna want anything to do with someone like that-

“ _Prom_ ,” Noct’s voice is stern, enough so to force Prompto’s blue eyes (which are absolutely, totally _not_ lined with tears, because that would be super lame) up to meet his kinda-friend’s gaze. “Dude, I can literally _hear_ you freaking out inside your head. What’s going on?”

Slowly, Prompto swallows, then swallows again, and when he’s mostly sure he’s not going to immediately sob, he mumbles out, “Sorry, bro, I’m so stupid.”

Noctis’s mouth pulls into that grumpy frown he always gets when Prompto rags on himself. Prom has become intimately familiar with that frown, because despite the short amount of time they’ve been kinda-friends, ragging on himself is pretty much his default mode.

“You’re _not_ stupid,” Noct argues, his fingers digging a little harder into Prom’s shoulders for emphasis. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Prom lets his answer flood out with his exhale. “I sent my school jackets to the dry cleaners and I was supposed to pick them up today and I forgot and I have no jackets and I’m gonna get detention and then we can’t be friends.” His lip quivers on the last word.

When Noct snorts out a laugh, the blond kind of expects it. It was only a matter of time anyway, before the Prince would realize what a complete loser Prompto actually was and tell him to fuck off. At least he’d made it two weeks before failing epically, that had to be a new record for him.

“That’s what this is about?” Noct says lightly.

Prompto braces himself for the Prince’s derision and dismissal. He might even be able to make it off school property before he falls apart.

But instead of calling Prom out for being the hopeless disaster that he is, Noct just shrugs out of his own jacket and presses it casually into Prompto’s hands.

“Here, problem solved.” And then Noct smiles that lop-sided, sorta-shy smile that Prom is dangerously close to falling in love with.

“ _Dude_.” Prom sputters, staring down at the garment in his hands, then tremulously back up at Noctis. “Dude, no, I can’t. _You_ can’t. I’m not gonna let you get a write-up because of me!” He tries to shove Noct’s jacket back at him, but the Prince just dodges back a step and Prom’s left gripping the still-warm fabric between his shaking fingers.

Noctis just snorts and goes about rolling the sleeves of his white button-down up his forearms. “They won’t say a word to me about it, betcha,” he smirks.

“But dude…” Prom doesn’t know how to handle this. Noctis, the _Prince_ , his first kinda-friend in actual ever, is literally giving Prompto, no-name pleb and useless idiot, the shirt off his back. And doesn’t seem bothered in the least at the prospect of possible punishment. And is now studying Prompto with a look of minor concern as the blond continues to stand gawking like a startled chocobo.

“C’mon, just put it on, dude,” Noct nudges him with an elbow. “It’s cool, seriously.”

Prompto makes a noise like a punctured balloon as he slips the jacket over his shoulders. It fits perfect, like somehow _they_ fit perfect, and gods, it even _smells_ like Noct, the somehow intoxicating mixture of hair gel and cologne and mint toothpaste all captured in the cloth. Prom resists the urge to bury his nose in the collar and inhale deeply til he’s drunk on that scent, but only just.

When he glances back up to catch the Prince’s eye and offer a watery-sounding “Thanks, buddy,” he finds Noctis studying him with an unreadable expression that makes the pit of Prom’s stomach go tight and warm.

But then Noct seems to catch himself. In a blink, he’s ducking his head, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck in the way Prom is starting to recognize as the Prince’s embarrassed gesture. And if Prom didn’t know better, he’d be convinced there was a slight blush staining his kinda-friend’s cheeks. “S’nothing,” Noct dismisses. “Let’s get to homeroom before we’re late.” Then he’s moving toward the doors of the school, not even looking back to make sure Prom’s following, because _of course_ Prom’s following.

And sure enough, when they slouch into homeroom a moment later, their teacher barely even lifts her gaze from the papers she’s grading to acknowledge them, offering only a perfunctory nod to Prompto and a polite, “Good morning,” to Noctis. No one seems to even so much as blink at the Prince’s lack of proper uniform.

Prom must look as baffled as he feels, because Noct sinks an elbow into the blond’s ribs as he slides into his desk and murmurs a smug, “Told you.”

Despite himself, Prom manages to laugh.

When they finally reemerge into the afternoon sunlight hours later, the blond feels strangely light, even with the metric ass-ton of homework they’re both now laden with. They’re bumping shoulders and shoving each other and arguing over character classes in King’s Knight and acting for all the world like Noct didn’t just use his princely influence all day to keep Prom out of trouble. It’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and Noct had done it without a second thought. Prom decides that even if they never become more than kinda-friends, Noct will still be the best kinda-friend in the entirety of Eos.

As they near the end of the sidewalk, Prom can see the Prince’s car and its illustrious, pristine driver waiting patiently for Noctis at the curbside.

“Oh hey, just a sec,” he says suddenly, letting his backpack flump to the ground so he can tug off his borrowed jacket. Even though Noct swears up and down that Ignis is a softie, and even though the man himself has never been anything less than courteous and polite to Prom, the blond is still very much intimidated by the impossibly polished and beautiful individual that serves as Noctis’s advisor and chamberlain. And something tells him Ignis would not be thrilled with the prospect of his Prince abusing his position to break school rules, even if it was for Prompto’s benefit.

“Thanks again for saving my dumb ass today, buddy.” He reaches out to drop the jacket into Noct’s hands, only to find it being pushed back against his chest.

“Nah, dude, just keep it,” Noct says dismissively, and he’s wearing that stupid, soft smile again. _Damn, that’s not even fair._ “I’ve got like, three weeks’ worth of uniforms I don’t even wear ‘cause Iggy does my laundry like, every other day.” He rolls his ocean-deep eyes skyward. “Plus this way you have a back-up in case you forget again.” He gives Prom a teasing shove that makes the blond break into a broad grin.

“Yeah, you know me too well, dude,” he laughs. “But are you sure-?”

“Hella sure,” Noct cuts him off before Prom can get started on his gathering litany of self-doubt. “Least I can do for my best friend.” Then he punches Prom in the shoulder, apparently unaware that the blond is in the process of a critical mental meltdown.

_Best… friend?_

“All right, man, I better go. I’m sure Iggy’s waiting to ambush me with a hundred dumb council reports.” The Prince makes a face like he’s dying of boredom already. “Catch you online later for some dungeon grinding?”

Prom has no idea how he’s going to answer, because right now his entire chest feels like it’s full to bursting, his heart is taking up all the space and stealing all the oxygen he needs for rational thought, but somehow he manages to squeak out, “Can’t wait, buddy.”

And then Noct is gone, waving over his shoulder, and Prompto is left alone on the sidewalk, clutching his _best friend’s_ jacket, that his _best friend_ gave him, because they’re _best friends._

*

“Prom, just _stay,_ it’s 2am.” Noctis’s voice is muffled, partly because he’s still half asleep, but also partly because he has his face smashed into Prompto’s chest. Noct’s tv is back on the MoogleFlix main menu, the movie they’d fallen asleep watching having long since ended.

Prompto is warm and sleepy, and the last thing he really wants to do is untangle himself from the ball of limbs he and Noct have managed to become. He still can’t get over how Noct seems to forget about physical boundaries when they’re together, throwing himself into Prom’s orbit the moment he’s within range. He hadn’t known what to make of it at first – Prom’s a touchy-feely guy by nature, but he’d tried to rein it in when he’d finally worked up the courage to approach Noct six months prior, because the Prince seemed to prefer to keep everyone at a cautious arm’s length. But that had lasted all of two days before Noct was bumping knees with him under the table at lunch and pretending to faint dramatically against Prompto’s shoulder when he got killed in King’s Knight. Prom had found himself reciprocating before he even realized what he was doing, because the idea of being the only person in Noct’s life that Noct desired physical proximity with was too intoxicating a notion to ignore.

Later, when he’d met first Ignis, then Gladio, Prompto had discovered he wasn’t the _only_ person Noct was affectionate with, but it became perfectly clear that he reserved that side of himself for only the few people he trusted, and that had soothed some of the sting.

Plus Prom is _pretty_ sure Noct didn’t fall asleep curled around either of his retainers like he presently is on Prompto.

With a sleepy smile, the blond cards his fingers through the mess of black hair that’s trying to tickle his nose. “Dude, I didn’t bring any jammies or anything, I can’t stay,” he protests weakly, even as he makes absolutely no move to get up.

“I’ve got a whole closet full of clothes, you nerd,” the Prince grumbles against Prom’s shoulder. “You know anything of mine is yours.”

Prompto snorts. “I can’t just gank your cloths, bro.”

Noct’s sigh sends a current of warm air against the column of Prom’s neck. “Yes, you _can_.”

“It won’t even take me half an hour to run home,” he argues.

“You’re not running at 2am.”

“I’ve done it before.”

Noct growls and sits up suddenly, one hand planted against Prom’s chest. “Fine. You wanna go, you can go. But I’m calling Ignis to come get you so I know you get home safe.”

“Dude!” Prompto looks appropriately scandalized. “No! He’s sleeping, you can’t do that! He’d be _so_ pissed!”

“Then I guess you gotta stay,” Noct replies smugly.

Prompto gives his best friend the evil eye. “You’re such a cheat. You better lend me the oldest, ugliest pair of pajamas you have.”

Noctis just beams back at him.

It takes them close to half an hour of groaning and stumbling tiredly into each other before they finally manage to make it into Noct’s bed. Noct definitely does _not_ give Prompto his oldest, ugliest pajamas, but the comfy black shorts and t-shirt he provides seem well-worn and smell faintly of laundry soap. He pretends not watch Noct as he changes on the opposite side of the room, and pretends not to notice Noctis pretending not to watch _him_. When they’re settled at last under Noct’s blankets (all black, of course, because it’s frigging _Noct_ ), they lay on their sides facing each other.

Just as Prom feels like he’s about to get lost in all the massive space of Noct’s bed, he feels fingers knot into the front of his shirt and suddenly he’s got an armful of cuddly, sleepy Prince. Noct tucks one knee between Prom’s legs and lets his forehead rest against Prom’s chest, as he’d done on the couch. “Glad you stayed,” he murmurs.

“Thanks for letting me,” the blond answers back, trying to ignore how his heart is trying to beat out of his chest just now. Gods, but he’s so gone for this ridiculous, moody asshole, and it’s such a terrible idea, falling in love with the Crown Prince of Lucis, and it’s gonna hurt so bad somewhere down the road when he has to watch Noct fall in love with and marry someone else, but.

But maybe. Just for this moment.

He opens his mouth, closes it. Tries to decide what words he actually wants to say. “Noct,” he whispers.

“Mmm.”

The silence drags, and he can feel the rise and fall of Noctis’s chest slowing as the Prince starts to drift off. Maybe he won’t say anything after all. He doesn’t want to wake him-

“Prom.”

His own name echoes against his chest, and it’s Prompto’s turn to hum a low note of acknowledgement. “Yeah?”

“I like you wearing my clothes,” Noctis answers on a sigh, and then he is properly asleep, hand still fisted in the fabric over Prompto’s heart.

Prompto never packs an overnight bag to stay at Noct’s again.

*

“Nnngh, _shit_ , Noct, your hands…” Prom bites down on his own lip to stifle the whine that’s trying to escape. “Your hands are so fucking good, Noct, oh my gods…”

Noctis is Prompto’s first (and only) best friend. Noctis is Prompto’s first love (though he still hasn’t told him). Noctis is Prompto’s first kiss (he’s had a few others since then, but Noct is still the best). So it makes absolute sense that Noct is his first hand job.

Obviously, this wasn’t the direction he’d expected the afternoon to go in when Ignis had dropped them off at the arcade with the promise to be back in an hour. He could tell the Prince had _something_ on his mind, by the way Noct had been absently drawing shapes with his fingertip into the sensitive skin of Prom’s inner arm the whole drive there. But then Noct had dragged him immediately to the back of the arcade and into one of the private gaming booths and before Prom could do much more than utter a curious, “What…?” the Prince’s mouth was on him and his hands were _every_ where.

It’d been a good couple weeks since their last proper make out sesh, since before end-of-year exams had started and Ignis had temporarily banned Prompto from staying overnight so they could both study. With that in mind, he’d also been missing the sweet taste of Noct’s mouth, so he didn’t mind in the least when Noct practically tackled him with his lips.

But then Noct’s hand was at Prom’s zipper. And then his fingers were inside his boxers. And then…

“Been thinking about this for weeks,” Noctis admits into the curve of Prompto’s throat, where his teeth have been teasing the soft flesh. “Been dying to know what you sound like when you come.”

Prompto has no idea what he sounds like right now, but he’s pretty sure it’s obscene and needy and desperate, because that’s how Noct’s slender fingers have him feeling right now as they glide up and down his cock. Somehow he’s already mastered the perfect amount of pressure, just tight enough to drag deliciously with each pull as he slides his hand from base to tip. His wrist twists sweetly with each upstroke, palm gliding across the steady stream of slickness leaking from Prom’s slit. Then there’s Noct’s free hand, which is taking turns dragging blunt nails down the plane of Prom’s abdomen and then darting up to tease at each of Prom’s hardened nipples, driving him to delirium.

It probably hasn’t even been five minutes since they started and already Prom’s toes are curling in his boots. He’s got his fingers knotted so tight in Noct’s hair, he’s probably hurting him, but it’s all he can do to fight the impossible swell of liquid heat that wants to crash over him and drag him under.

“So fucking hot, Prom, why are you _so_ fucking hot?” Noctis smiles into his skin, lavishing his jaw with a long swipe of his tongue before claiming the blond’s mouth for another sharp kiss.

“N-not… not me.” Teeth sink into Prompto’s bottom lip and he’s forced to hiss in a breath as his cock gives a warning throb. He manages to gasp, “ _You’re_ hot. I’m n-nothing special… mmm!” His voice cracks on a moan.

“Godsdamn it, Prom.” The Prince breaks their kiss, despite Prompto’s mouth chasing desperately after him, and presses their foreheads together. The hand on Prom’s cock slows a little, but his other hand makes up for it by curling around Prom’s hip, his thumb tracing up and down the junction of Prom’s thigh and groin. “How can you not know? You’re _so_ much…” He breathes the words into the space between them and Prom gulps them down, his eyes closed impossibly tight. “Prom, you idiot, you’re perfect, and I…”

He wants Noctis to finish that sentence more than anything in the world. He needs to hear the next words out of his best friend’s mouth more than he needs oxygen, or a heartbeat. But the blazing inferno tearing through his core can’t be contained any longer, fanned to combustion by every syllable falling from Noct’s stupid, beautiful mouth, and the blond feels his entire body go taut as a bowstring as he gasps out, “ _I’m coming!_ ”

And then he’s spilling _everywhere_ , pulse after pulse, and Noct is kissing him again, swallowing the cries of pleasure he’s too numb to stifle, and godsdamn, he’s _still_ coming, until it feels like he’s spent every last drop of fluid from his entire body.

He’s trembling against Noct, his face buried in the Prince’s shoulder. “Shit,” he groans, “shit, I’m so sorry.”

Lips glide sweetly against the shell of his ear. “Don’t be,” Noctis murmurs, “don’t you dare. You’re so beautiful, Prom. So perfect.” He repeats his earlier praise, but leaves his final sentence unfinished, and Prom’s not sure if he wants to sob out of frustration or relief. But then Noct giggles, startling Prom enough that his head snaps up to stare at his friend. Noct’s midnight eyes are filled with mirth as he studies the front of his own t-shirt. “Damn, dude. I’m kind of impressed.”

Prom follows his gaze.

And immediately blushes so hard, he’s pretty sure his whole head is going to fall off.

The front of Noct’s shirt is utterly _coated_ in sticky stripes of come, the pearly white fluid all-too-obvious against the stark black material. There’s no mistaking what he and the Prince have just gotten up to in the dark of the arcade.

“Oh my actual gods,” Prom wails. He buries his face in his hands, even as Noct continues to laugh. “Dude, I can’t even. I’m _so_ done.” He peeks through his fingers and somehow the mess seems even worse as it’s starting to dry. He groans weakly. “Ugh, just make sure when they’re writing my obituary that they mark ‘embarrassment’ as my official cause of death.”

The Prince just raises one dark eyebrow at his friend and counters, “Actually, I was thinking it’s kinda hot. Though I’d rather try it _without_ a shirt next time.”

Prom’s pretty sure his freckles are going to melt off his face with the heat he’s currently producing. “ _Dude_ ,” he whines, because the idea of coming all over a shirtless Noct is doing _things_ to his brain and his body and he hasn’t even recovered yet from coming less than two minutes ago. Luckily, the chime of Noct’s ringtone gives him a moment to recover.

But the Prince is frowning as he reads the message. “Shit,” he murmurs. “Ignis is on his way.”

Shit, indeed. There’s no way in hell they can explain the mess on Noct in a way that _won’t_ end with an extremely awkward lecture by Ignis.

Without thinking, Prom starts tugging his own shirt up and over his head. “Take this,” he says, shoving the dark purple and neon green garment at Noct as he moves to straighten the pale blue tank top he’s left himself in. “I’m too warm anyway.” He shoots an abashed smile at the Prince, who laughs in return.

“Thanks, dude.”

Prompto doesn’t bother to hide his stare as Noct strips his soiled t-shirt off, sapphire eyes taking in every last inch of his best friend’s gorgeous pale skin. He thinks of all the million places he’d love to kiss and lick and bite on that perfect torso.

Catching Prom’s gaze, Noct pauses halfway through redressing, giving the blond an extra moment to admire the subtle definition of his stomach. “Whatcha thinking?” the Prince purrs.

Prom’s brain is still on temporary vacation, so his hormones answer for him. “Thinking about what you said earlier. About trying this again with less clothes,” he murmurs.

The grin Noctis flashes him is breathtaking. “Stay over tonight?”

Prompto can’t agree fast enough. “Hell yes.”

By the time they make it outside to where Ignis has pulled up with the Regalia, they’re laughing and bickering like nothing, and Noct makes a show of trying to mess up Prom’s hair as they fall into the backseat.

“Noct,” Ignis intones, and they both glance up to find the chamberlain regarding them curiously through the rearview mirror. “Why are you wearing Prompto’s shirt?”

Instantly Prom feels the tips of his ears start to burn, but Noct doesn’t even bat an eyelash as he answers, all casual disinterest, “Spilled my pop all over mine. It was all sticky and gross so I threw it in the trash.” Then he shrugs, like it’s the most plausible explanation in the world for suddenly wearing someone else’s clothes. “Prom gave me his.”

Ignis’s sigh is pure exasperation. “Noctis, you _do_ own a washing machine, you know.”

“So?” the Prince isn’t even looking at his advisor anymore, having pulled his phone from his pocket to begin flicking through his social media apps. “I’ve also got a million other t-shirts, Specs. Figured you’d be happy I saved you the effort.”

Sighing again, Ignis just shakes his head and throws the Regalia into gear.

*

[Prompto 23:52] OMG

[Prompto 23:52] DUDE

[Prompto 23:52] What. The. Hell. Am. I. Wearing. To. Graduation. Sunday.

[Noctis 23:53] omg chill

[Noctis 23:53] ur good

[Prompto 23:53] I am?

[Noctis 23:53] ya

[Noctis 23:54] Iggy picked out one of my old suits for u

[Noctis 23:54] he’s hemming it up to fit

[Noctis 23:54] just come by 2morro to try it

[Prompto 23:54] DUDE

[Prompto 23:54] I can’T EVEN

[Prompto 23:55} plz tell Iggy THX SO MUCH

[Noctis 23:55] …

[Noctis 23:56] actually i might’ve picked it

[Prompto 23:56] dude???

[Noctis 23:59] its whatever. u look better in blue than me neways

[Prompto 23:59] dude <3<3<3

[Noctis 00:01] whatev, its nothing, don’t be a spaz

[Prompto 00:01] it’s not nothing

[Prompto 00:01] I don’t deserve u

[Prompto 00:02] u gotta let me get u back

[Noctis 00:04] … maybe ;D

[Prompto 00:04] o ya? ;D ;-x

[Noctis 00:05] u can pay me back

[Noctis 00:05] on my d

[Noctis 00:05] with ur moth

[Noctis 00:05] *mouth

[Prompto 00:06] MOTH

[Noctis 00:06] no

[Prompto 00:06] MOTH INTENSIFIES

[Noctis 00:06] don’t do it

[Prompto 00:07] MOOOOTTHHHHHH

[Noctis 00:07] DO IT. DO IT, MOTH ME, I FUCKIN DARE U

[Prompto 00:10] omg whatever you do, don’t Moogle image search ‘sexy moth,’ it’s not worth it

[Prompto 00:10] cannot unsee

[Prompto 00:11] Noct

[Prompto 00:12] Noct you’re searching it aren’t you

[Noctis 00:14] i immediately regret this decision

[Prompto 00:14] dude I fuckin told you

[Noctis 00:15] i am scarred for life

[Prompto 00:15] lmao dude

[Noctis 00:16] i might be blind

[Prompto 00:16] xD xD xD u mad bro?

[Noctis 00:17] i demand u get naked & vid call me rn

[Noctis 00:17] to help me recover from my trauma

[Prompto 00:17] no can do, buddy

[Prompto 00:17] gotta get to bed

[Prompto 00:17] work at 8am tomorrow xP

[Noctis 00:18] ur cruel

[Prompto 00:19] yep :D

[Prompto 00:20] g’night, buddy <3 I’ll see you tomorrow

[Noctis 00:21] night dude

[Noctis 00:25] hey

[Noctis 00:25] Prom

[Prompto 00:25] yeah dude?

[Noctis 00:27] ilu

Staring at the text, Prompto lets the swell of emotion wash through him. They haven’t been able to say it out loud to each other yet; every time they’ve tried, they end up stumbling and stammering and falling to pieces. But the feeling is there, as real as those three letters on his phone screen, and it fills his whole entire heart with something stupidly, impossibly happy.

He taps out his reply, and falls asleep holding his phone against his chest.

[Prompto 00:28] ilu2, Noct

*

They’re sitting side by side in the grass in one of Insomnia’s more secluded parks, and Prompto already knows something big is up. For starters, the Prince has barely said a word to him from the moment he’d picked Prompto up from his late shift at the bookstore. Prom’s been working part-time to cover his bills until his Crownsguard training finishes, and he knows it annoys Noct that he won’t let Noct help him out, but he doesn’t think that’s what this is about. When he’d asked where Ignis was, Noct had just shook his head, and went on driving in silence.

So whatever it is that’s bugging his best friend, it’s a serious enough thing he doesn’t even want Iggy to know.

Which makes Prompto’s stomach do _all_ sorts of crazy nervous twisting.

But he’s been as patiently quiet as he can be, because he knows Noct. The Prince has never done the talking-about-emotions thing very well, and unlike Gladio, and sometimes even Ignis, Prompto has never felt the need to push Noct into talking about stuff before he’s ready. It’s probably why Noct always calls him first when he needs to vent.

He _does_ wish Noct would hurry it up a bit tonight, though. The sun’s already gone down, and there’s just enough chill in the early-spring air that he’s grateful for his jacket. Noct, of course, isn’t wearing a jacket, because Noct _never_ remembers to wear a jacket unless Ignis is shoving one at him as he walks out the door.

So Prompto’s not even a little surprised when he feels the first hint of a shiver against his shoulder.

Even though he rolls his eyes, he’s immediately slipping out of his jacket and tossing it around Noct’s shoulders. Which is when Noct finally looks at him, and _shit_ , there’s tears in Noct’s eyes and _shit_ , it’s _that_ level of bad. His anxiety sky rockets and he can’t hold his peace any longer as he asks, “What’s going on, dude?”

Noct sniffles, rubbing at his nose with the sleeve of Prompto’s jacket. “Prom, you know I love you, right?”

Oh shit. Shitshitshit.

Prompto’s heart plummets straight into his boots, because oh gods, it’s _that_ conversation. He’s tried not to think about it, but secretly he’s been expecting it for months now. Because there was never going to be a happy ending for a pleb who fell in love with a Prince. Stupidly, he’d hoped that expecting it would make it hurt less, but right now he feels like he’s just taken one of Ignis’s daggers to his gut.

“I love you too, buddy,” he manages to say, but his voice is like broken glass as he pushes out the words.

“Prom, I love you so, so much, please, just…”

Here it comes.

“I don’t ever want you to think I don’t love you, but.”

Fuck it, Prompto didn’t need his heart anyway.

Noctis sucks in a shaking breath, then all his words spill out in a rush. “I think I might be in love with Gladio too.”

Slowly, Prompto blinks. “What.”

“It’s so stupid, I don’t understand it, it just sort of hit me, and I don’t even know if it’s something that’s supposed to be possible, because I love you, holy _fuck_ , do I love you, and oh my gods, what is wrong with me, I mean, I used to _hate_ him, except now sometimes when he smiles, my whole fucking heart wants to implode, the way it does when I look at you and…” Noctis is absolutely word vomiting at this point, and Prom can barely keep up. He’s still stuck on _in love with Gladio_.

Because suddenly he can say the thing he’s been quietly freaking out about for months now.

“I have a crush on Iggy,” he blurts, which stops Noct’s monologue dead.

“… you do?”

Prom swallows, nods, and draws forth the courage to look Noctis in the eye. His friend’s features are some bizarre mix of shock and apprehension and a tiny twist of hope, and if the circumstance weren’t already so batshit crazy, Prom might’ve laughed. Instead he blows out a shaking sigh and says, “Noct, I love you more than I’m ever gonna be able to put into words. But if Ignis stopped me in the middle of the Citadel and asked me to kiss him, even with your dad and Gladio’s dad and Cor and all the Crownsguard watching, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” He makes a noise that is half laugh, half sob. “I guess that makes me a fucked up mess too.”

“Dude, no,” Noctis breathes, throwing his arms around Prom and pulling him tight. “No, you’re not. Specs is great, and you’d be totally great with him. Honestly, I think he might even have a thing for you, but I didn’t want to tell you because I was… well, kind of jealous.” He huffs a laugh against the side of Prompto’s neck. “Guess that makes me a bit of a hypocrite right now, huh.”

“Not even close.” Prom smooths a kiss against Noct’s temple. “You’re the best, and for as much crap as Gladio gives you, it’s obvious he cares about you. Dude, you should’ve seen how sweet he was tucking a blanket around you when you crashed on your couch the other night.” He smiles at the memory, at the tenderness of the behemoth of a Shield as he gently folded the covers up under Noct’s chin.

Noctis’s fingers dig into Prom’s shoulders a little. “Shit, seriously?”

“Dude, would I lie? I about fell for him myself then,” the blond admits. He’s relieved when he feels Noct start to laugh, one of the Prince’s hands sliding up to tangle in the back of Prompto’s hair, and Prompto lets his fingers crawl under the hem of Noct’s shirt until he can press his palms against the warm flesh there, fingertips delicately tracing the lines of the scar on the Prince’s lower back.

For a long, perfect moment, they simply exist together, and Prompto is never more grateful for his perfect friend, who gets him in a way no one else on Eos could ever possibly manage.

Well, except maybe two other people on Eos.

“So we’re both in love with each other _and_ our best friends,” Prom finally muses into the curve of Noct’s neck. It sounds like the plot of one of the anime fanfiction stories he likes to read on his phone when he’s bored at work, but somehow he can’t shake the idea of it, and the more he lets it bounce around his brain, the harder it is for him to dismiss it.

Noct’s nose brushes Prom’s earlobe as he nods. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So, do we like… tell them?” Even as he suggest it, Prompto feels a thrill of excitement down his spine.

“No!” Noct goes tense in his arms, then slowly it ebbs out of him. “I mean. Shit. Maybe?” He pulls back so Prom can see his face properly, and behind the Prince’s gorgeous midnight-blue eyes, Prompto can sense the hurricane of thoughts he’s grappling with. “I mean, I want to, so bad, but like. How the hell do you even say something like that?” He laughs a little self-consciously and drags a hand through his hair. “Is there even such a thing as the right time to throw out that piece of information?”

Shrugging helplessly, Prompto answers, “I couldn’t even tell you, buddy. But even if we never tell _them_ , at least _we_ know, and that’s better than being all stressed about it alone, right?”

A slow smile steals over the Prince’s features, the one that took Prompto’s heart four years ago and never gave it back. “That’s true,” he admits, then a touch of hesitation creeps into his gaze. “You’re not mad, right?”

“Dude, no!” Prompto immediately denies, and drops a warm kiss against Noctis’s mouth to prove his point. “If anything, I’m kind of a little bit horny now.”

Noctis bursts out laughing, a warm and welcome sound in the cool night air. “You nerd,” he teases, shoving Prom onto his back in the grass. “I love you. Don’t ever change.”

*

It’s been a long but satisfying day, and the mood around their campsite is generally a good one as the boys go about their normal night routine. Noct hadn’t even complained once as he’d cleaned and fileted all the fish he’d caught for dinner, and as a show of appreciation, Ignis didn’t lecture him when the Prince went to curl up by the fire and have a nap immediately after. Gladio had the tent up in a matter of minutes and was dividing his time between the book in his lap and watching Ignis glide around the camp stove.

Prompto drifts between them all, first stopping to drop a kiss on Noct’s sleeping forehead, then gravitating over to rest his chin on Ignis’s shoulder while the older man tends to the frying barramundi filets.

“Need any help, Iggy?” he asks, curling himself into the comfort of Ignis’s back.

The advisor smiles and pauses in his cooking long enough to nuzzle affectionately against the younger blond’s temple. “I’m quite alright, but thank you for asking,” he replies, and hums a note of appreciation when Prompto presses a kiss against his jaw.

He lets Ignis get back to it, ambling over by the fire until he’s close enough for Gladio to reach out and snag him by the ties of his sweatshirt. Well, technically, it’s _Gladio’s_ sweatshirt, but Prompto has been hoarding it for the better part of a month now, and the Shield has yet to ask for it back. Not to mention Prom loves the smug, smoldering glow that seems to claim Gladio’s amber gaze every time he sees Prompto wearing it.

Prom goes willingly when Gladio tugs him into his lap, and lets himself be snuggled for a delicious moment by the big man.

“Who said you were allowed to be so godsdamn adorable,” the Shield grumbles playfully against Prompto’s mouth, and Prom bites his lower lip in a teasing response, eliciting a growl from the older man.

“Don’t get started with that, you two.” Ignis is staring them down over the camp stove, his spatula lifted threateningly. “Dinner’s nearly ready, and I’ll be very displeased if you distract me and make me burn it.”

Gladio fixes the advisor with a playful glare of disapproval as he grouches, “Buzzkill.” But he relinquishes Prom all the same, sending him off with a swat to his ass that’s _just_ this side of painful.

Muttering a few choice curses about the handprint that’s likely now emblazoned on his ass cheek, Prom settles for standing in front of the fire, letting his mind wander as he basks in the warmth. Across the flames, his three lovers are blanketed in a peaceful silence. Noctis, soft and beautiful in his slumber, so much younger without the weight of the future tugging down the corners of his mouth. Ignis, glowing and resplendent as he finishes their meal, humming lightly to himself in a way he’d never done back in Insomnia. And Gladio, impossibly strong and improbably gentle, his amber gaze vivid as he loses himself in the pages of his book. Insomnia is gone, and everything they knew is in tatters, but somehow, he’s here, with these amazing men he loves so fiercely, for whom he’d happily give his last breath, and for here and now, it’s enough.

He’s pulled from his musing by a sudden blast of cold air on his back, and then someone is crawling inside his oversize hoodie with him, long slender arms sliding down the sleeves to rest against his own, a mop of unruly black hair tickling the back of his neck as Noct’s head appears through the over-stretched neck hole.

“Well hey there, sleepy head,” Prompto croons as Noct melts against him, twining their fingers together inside the roomy fabric of his sleeves. “I didn’t realize you were awake. What’s up, buddy?”

Noctis just hums and buries his face against Prompto. “Nothing,” he murmurs, “just wanted you.”

The brilliant smile that comes to life on Prompto’s face is effortless as he sinks into the Prince’s warm embrace. “Aww, anytime, baby. You know I love your cuddles.”

He can feel Noct smile back against his shoulder. “Love you.”

“Love you too, buddy,” Prompto answers, honest and warm. His eyes flutter closed, allowing him to soak up every bit of this moment and etch it into his memory.

Somewhere ahead and to his left, there is a dramatic sigh. Then, a moment later, a pair of large, bare arms are wrapping tightly around them both and Gladio is laughing, “Oh shut up, Ignis, I can’t help it. Sometimes I can’t even handle these two. Now get your ass over here.”

Prom’s sapphire eyes flash open to find Gladio’s handsome face glowing in a grin above him and Ignis making his way around the side of the campfire. The advisor pretends to look put out as he wipes his hands on his dish towel and grouses, “Any defects in your dinner are entirely of your own making.” But his lips are curled into one of his most adoring smiles, belying his actual feelings as he joins them, arms tangling with Gladio’s as they encircle the two younger men.

And there they are, the four of them, all together, a perfect moment in the middle of a fucked up, imperfect world, and yet Prom feels so, so loved. Here, with each other, they’ll always have a home.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit. I haven't written or published any fanfiction in like, 10 years. Except then I played FFXV (I'm late to the party, I know) and oh my god these boys. These friggin' adorable, loveable, heartbreaking, ridiculously sexy boys. So here's 6 chapters of shameless adoration and smut, because I can. Explicit rating is for later chapters, but it will definitely be earned. I'll add specific tags as I go, just not sure how kinky these four are going to get on me. Unbeta'ed, so if you see a glaring error, please by all means, let me know. Comments, constructive crit, and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> And feel free to follow me on Twitter @Ginevieve07 if you like. I'm mostly boring, but love new friends.


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